


Greg, Your Average Greg

by himynameisv



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Greg is extremely unlucky, Mugging, Prompt 28, Such Wow Many Normal Very Oops, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himynameisv/pseuds/himynameisv
Summary: Greg was your average Joe. His job involved shoving a gun in people's faces and demanding all their money. But still, he thought he was pretty normal.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Greg, Your Average Greg

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an alternate perspective to [chapter 28](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012982/chapters/66568840) of my [Whumptober 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012982/chapters/65943589) fic (where this guy tries to mug Loki, and Loki's completely unimpressed). I know, shameless self-promotion, but I couldn't help it. The idea just plopped into my head one day. And soon enough, I had a whole totally unneeded backstory for the unlucky mugger (reminds me of how much we know about the Girl Scout in Beetlejuice the Musical). Honestly, it's pointless, and self-indulgent, and probably a poor attempt at humor; but humor me, okay? I've written so much angst that I've forgotten how to function.

Greg was your average Joe.

Well, not really your average Joe, 'cause his name was _Greg_ ; but, anyways, he was just that random guy people saw walking down the street. He had slightly scruffy clothes, including what was a pretty expensive jacket in his eyes (which meant it wasn't that expensive at all). He had a gray wool beanie that he wore pretty much all the time now. He had boots that scuffed against the pavement every now and then, eyes that were the average light blue for this area of the city.

The point was that he was normal.

At least, he thought he was (ignoring every single thing all the adults in his life had ever told him, of everyone being _unique_ , of everyone being _special_ , of everyone having a good life if they set their minds to it). No matter, he didn't have a great life, but he didn't have a terrible one. It was a normal life.

He walked down the crowded street, fingering the cold metal object in his pocket.

Yes. He had a job. He _absolutely_ had a job! It wasn't his fault that he still had to live in his parents' basement or anything. His job didn't pay enough, that was all! It was not his fault that it wasn't exactly a stable job.

And maybe...maybe that was because his job had something to do with shoving a gun in people's faces and demanding all their money? Maybe it wasn't strictly...normal.

But it was something. It paid the bills, it kept his parents off of his back for a time, it certainly didn't require too much work.

It was an honest job, he thought. Something he did by himself, with his own hands and feet. He deserved the money that came from it.

He sighed, glancing around at everyone and trying to pick a target. It would be slightly hard to get someone alone, but he could pull someone swiftly into an alley and be done with it quickly.

A guy in rather expensive-looking clothing caught his eye as he walked by, hair slicked back and hands in his pockets. He smirked at the people around him and held his head high. Greg smirked back at him, not that he noticed; only rich people held themselves like that, like they had no care in the world, like everything was for their taking. He was only doing what was right, after all; some people didn't need all that much money. It wasn't his fault he didn't have a 'proper job' like his dad had described.

Greg looked both ways before crossing the street (New York traffic is no joke, guys), walking closer to the guy, getting nearer and nearer before he grabbed ahold of his arm and shoved him into a dark alley. He took a second to look at his surroundings, raising his eyebrows. He was pretty sure he'd mugged someone here before (ooh...mugged wasn't that pretty of a word).

Before he could get too distracted, he punched the man in the face with what he thought was a pretty good punch. With his other hand, he swiftly took out his gun and held it in front of the guy's face so he'd look cross-eyed trying to look at it. "Give me all your money!" he screamed in the way he'd heard on TV the other day.

Usually, they'd be whimpering and crying for their lives by now, even though he didn't actually have a bullet inside of the gun. (They thought he was actually going to shoot them? _Ha!_ ) But the guy looked...unimpressed? "Excuse me?"

He frowned, swallowing a bit before jabbing the gun a bit more into his face. Now that he thought about it, the guy did look vaguely familiar...

"Yeah, you heard what I said," he growled, trying to loom over the man even though he was, like, a good foot shorter than him. He probably should've thought this through earlier.

"Well, yes. Of course I heard what you said. I'm not deaf."

Greg frowned even more. The guy was acting like he was better than him, which was _so_ not what he was expecting or wanted. His ego couldn't take it. "Give me all your money!" he repeated, with more anger than usual.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, Greg realized he was only holding air in his hands.

He faintly heard himself whispering, "What?" Though, on second thought, that could've been in his head. His sis said that sometimes he said things out loud that he'd wanted to keep in his head, and sometimes it worked the other way around. Not that he really noticed when it happened.

"It's rather unfortunately, really," the guy continued, and why was he speaking like...royalty, or Shakespeare or something? Were all British people this annoying? "You would've had much better luck picking _literally anyone else_ in the city." Greg highly doubted that, because he was pretty sure his mom would beat his ass if he ever tried to mug...rob...ask nicely for money from her. "But you just _had_ to pick me." Okay, in his defense, the guy looked _loaded_. Like, almost _Iron Man_ loaded. Okay? Who else could he have picked? "I don't even _have_ any money on me at the moment! Human currency, at least. I doubt Asgard's coins will help you much in your endeavors."

Greg continued to stare at him. Asgard? Was that, like, some country on the other side of the world? Also, what was that green stuff earlier? How did the guy make his gun disappear? Was it magic?

His eyes widened a little. Could he _teach_ him how to do magic? It would make things _so much_ easier, and - and now the guy was staring at him.

"Please stop staring at me like that. It's very unbecoming."

He knew when he was being insulted, so he snapped his mouth shut, teeth clacking together in an almost painful way. Hopefully he wouldn't need braces again or anything.

"I suppose I can't let you go and rob other people now, can I?"

"No, no." He started backing away with a nervous smile, one of those ones that all his previous girlfriends had thought cute - that is, until they broke up with him. "You can do that. I won't try to mug anyone ever again." Well, he probably was, but how was that guy supposed to know? It's not like he was a god or something, right?

Right?

"Oh no you don't." With a yelp, he was pulled back by the back of his collar, although he was pretty sure the guy hadn't moved from his position by the wall. Who _was_ this guy, anyways? He had stolen his gun, he was making green orbs of magic in his hands, he had a pretty dangerous smirk curling around his face...

Honestly, he kinda looked like a supervillain.

Greg gulped.

Wait a sec...

* * *

He found himself hanging upside down in front of a store later, pretty much stripped bare except for his Spongebob boxers and pink socks.

And the Santa beard. The actual, _real_ , pull and it would hurt Santa beard on his face. You couldn't forget that.

Some spoiled kid threw a snowball at his head, and it dripped down the brown antlers hanging from his head.

Oh, yeah? Did he forget to mention the fucking antlers?

The cops were somewhere below him, standing on the sidewalk and taking notes, laughing at his expense. He hoped the spell would wear off soon so he could just _go_. Maybe they'd let him off easy or something. It's not like he did much today; if anything, _he_ was the victim in this.

So, all in all, today wasn't that good of a day, he concluded. Now, as long as his mom didn't find out-

"Gregory! What the hell are you doing up there?!"

"Shit."


End file.
